Jack Hinton: The Guardsman

by Charles James Lever

'How are you, Hinton?' said one, with something more of warmth than the rest. 'I have not met you for some weeks past.'

'No,' said I, smiling. 'I have been nearly a year from home.'

'Ah, indeed! In Spain?'

'No, in Ireland.'

'In Ireland? How odd!'

'Who has been in Ireland?' said a low, plaintive voice. Turning round as she spoke, my lady-mother stood before me. 'I should like to hear something—— But, dear me, this must be John!' and she held out her jewelled hand towards me.

'My dear mother, I am so happy to see you look so very well——'

'No, no, my dear,' said she, sighing, 'don't speak of that. When did you arrive? I beg your Royal Highness's pardon, I hope you have not forgotten your protege, my son.'

I bowed reverently as a large, full, handsome man, with bald head and a most commanding expression, drew himself up before me.

'No, madam, I have not forgotten him, I assure you!' was the reply, as he returned my salute with marked coldness, and passed on.